 Robin Wyatt Dunn lives in a state of desperation engineered by late capitalism, within which his mind is a mere subset of a much larger hallucination wherein men are machines, machines are men, and the world and everything in it are mere dreams whose eddies and currents poets can channel briefly but cannot control. Perhaps it goes without saying that he lives in Los Angeles. dig and dear the deer dig the embled queer and shredded face of the dawn sucked dry and stuck over the fireplace shark and rat and faceless hat to wear inside the breeze remember the name of the thing remember the shape remember the need of it remember the reason of its breathing Sally, sally, Battle Britt Carp and Keep My Evening Shrift to Seed The Soak and Spank the Oak You Tremendous Oaf Baffler Boffler Backler Bonded One Is it myself, or you, Ah, it's both. Meet in the evening For the Oath Rankle the Devil for his Toast and mark the meal for our Revoking Peace It's War. My eye orn countryman. My island watched fairy. My reek and rook and wretched paper man, So close to me, I can smell your sweat, Like yeast, A loaf of loneliness, Bespoke and curled about your feet, It's eating me, I see, And better for it, and me, To know it has begun. I only wanted to say hello. I only needed to leave you this clue: Of the dragon Please hear him in your sleep Counting off your sheep Inside his mouth. the sun is a band a band of men a band of leather a band on the porch waiting for the night smoking tapping its feet the storm rises over my stomach filling my legs with juice the prickles sense the coming of the herb prickling against the cloud shuddering beneath the stream of the heart burn and burn and burn
the rate the train and you lock and load and carry miles inside lecher dawn's delight lick the loose stain of rust from the freight car door burn and burn and burn burn the lad and lake burn the tom and brakes blanket all the night with my face over yours burn the broad beggar and lift him into the train burn the street and your past face we'll scar you to our own-- burn the setting and the trace I have the calculation for our leaving -- like a portal from the world -- -- in legend -- my heroes are you
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